


A Name For A Prince

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... in which the Charmings name their son to honour a man who helped them fall in love and save their daughter. (A little fix-it fic because I still think it's weird that they called the baby Neal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Name For A Prince

Killian feels like he has once again left the world behind him, like time and space are spinning around him and he’s lost in a moment, this moment, where nothing matters except the feel of feather-soft hair tangling around his fingers and a gentle but insistent hand on the back of his neck and warm, soft lips against his.

This is how it feels to kiss Emma Swan.

It isn’t the first time; in fact, as he has just discovered, even the first time wasn’t truly the first time. He doesn’t remember the first time. That bothered him, but it no longer matters now, because what he thought was both the first and the last time has turned out to be neither, and overall, he thinks, he can live with that.

His heart is pounding like a wild thing, and he thinks that she’s breathing a little faster when she pulls away to smile at him again. She’s never smiled at him like that before. It makes the world tilt again, shifting around him. Righting itself, he thinks.

He doesn’t want to let go of her just yet, but she seems to share the sentiment, because she stays close to him, her hand still buried in the hair at the nape of his neck.

There are a hundred things he wants to say, burning on his tongue in the aftermath of her kisses, but he knows better. Whatever this is between them, it’s a fragile thing, and if he’s not careful, it will snap.

So he only smiles back, fingers still toying with a strand of her hair. “Tell me, love,” he says, his voice slightly husky, a lover’s murmur. “What did they name the lad?”

She blinks. “What?”

Apparently, he’s not the only one who got a little lost – or perhaps _found_ , he amends – in the moment. “Your brother,” he clarifies. “I believe they were to announce the prince’s name?”

“Right. Yeah.” He can hear the change in her voice as she returns to reality. “They did.” She looks away for a moment, and when she meets his eyes again, there’s a hint of the old wariness back in her expression. She hesitates, and he can see the moment where she gets annoyed enough with herself for hesitating to push past whatever her worry is. “His name is Charles.”

His initial reaction is a faint relief – he’s familiar with the naming customs in this realm by now, and he’s not at all sure he could have withheld a remark or two if they’d given the young royal a name like Chase or Taylor or Brock.

Emma seems to be waiting for a reaction, so he nods approvingly. “A good name,” he says, and decides to try it out. “Prince Charles. I—”

He freezes, the title belatedly bringing it all together for him, and feels his eyes widen.

It must be quite the sight, because Emma smiles in the same way she did when she called him a hero. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Dav—Dad said he’s always wanted to name a son Charles, in honour of a man he met a long time ago who helped him remember that love’s worth fighting for.”

She pauses, tilts her head, frowns at him. “Killian?”

He’s shaking his head, he realises, although he isn’t entirely sure why. At the way the world is spinning around him again, maybe, or at the tears that he can feel threatening somewhere behind his eyes (they’re going to _stay_ there, or so help him). It’s all wrong. Or rather, it’s all right, and he doesn’t know how to handle that anymore. It’s too much.

He stops, clears his throat, focuses on Emma. “Aye,” he says, and clears his throat again. “Do they, ah, know the true story yet?”

“I told them.” Her smile edges its way back onto her face, her eyes bright. “You should have seen the look on David’s—Dad’s face.”

“I imagine he’s reconsidering the name,” he says, relieved when his voice comes out as lightly as he intended.

But Emma shakes her head. “They announced it after I was done,” she said.

He squeezes his eyes shut against the new flood of emotion. They named their son after him. Or rather, after a man who was inadvertently the best part of him, the part of him who helps rescue princesses and risks his life for love. The part of him that still wears navy uniform and looks at the world with a bright smile, the part that he thought died with Liam.

Prince Charles.

He feels Emma’s hand wrap around his. “You should come inside,” she says. “There’s cake.”

“Ah,” he manages, opening his eyes again to look at her. She understands, he can tell from the look in her eyes, but she’s no more able to voice any of it than he is. He swallows, and tries a smile. “In that case, lead the way, milady.”

She leans forward to give him another kiss, a gentle, lingering touch of her lips against his. Then she stands up, pulling him with her, and leads him inside the diner.

He makes his apologies to the royal couple, explaining that he hadn’t wanted to impose, and is formally introduced to little Prince Charles by a beaming Snow White. He remembers this part, how to pay his respects to a new member of the royal court, and has the pleasure of seeing Snow’s surprise at the apparently unexpected gesture.

Then he glances at David, who is trying to look a little forbidding, but failing miserably. The news of Emma’s decision to stay with them seems to be making it difficult for him to avoid looking happy. Another thing to thank his lady for at some point, Killian notes.

“You know,” David says to his wife, a little glint in his eyes. “I’m just thinking of nicknames. Charles is a little old-fashioned.”

“Charlie, perhaps,” Killian suggests, deadpan.

“Hmm.” David nods. “Or Char, for when he’s older.”

Once again, Killian is glad of several centuries’ worth of experience with keeping a straight face. It’s perhaps not the most respectful way to show his appreciation, to make light of it this way, but if he _doesn’t_ make light of it he might just fall to his knees and weep. “That’s rather... charming.”

David’s eyes spark. “I think so.” He pauses, then his smile breaks out completely and he claps Killian on the shoulder. “Welcome home, by the way.”

Killian looks him in the eye, feels his fingers tighten a little around Emma’s. The world is stable around him, warm and bright and aligned in a way that it hasn’t been in centuries.

“Thank you.”


End file.
